Reviews: Alpana Singh's Seven Lions and Boarding House have star power

This week, we try something different, reviewing two restaurants owned by the same person.

The owner is Alpana Singh — master sommelier, TV personality and, these days, restaurateur. The first is Boarding House, which opened in December 2013; I reviewed it early on, but not since executive chef Tanya Baker (a finalist in May for the James Beard Foundation's Rising Star Chef award) took over the kitchen. Next is Singh's latest, Seven Lions, which opened in February under executive chef Chris Curren, formerly of Blue 13 and Homestead on the Roof.

Boarding House

Tanya Baker has been with Boarding House since it opened, starting as a line cook and rising, with considerable speed, to executive chef, where she quickly adjusted the menu to embrace lighter, cleaner flavors. "Being here from the beginning was an advantage," she says. "I was able to see what worked, feel out the clientele."

Baker still will toss a few curveballs here and there, such as taking a tartare of wagyu beef (which originated in Japan) and continuing in the Asian vein with accompanying pickled cucumber slices (shades of Momofuku), Asian pear and savory sesame crackers. Octopus is piled high over a jet-black squid-ink aioli, but mixed in the jumble are chorizo, shishito peppers and duck-fat potatoes.

But her strength seems to lie in simplicity, as when she props a fried egg on planks of fried polenta, topped with shavings of pecorino and black truffle, all over bechamel sauce. Honey-glazed chicken arrives with piquillo-pepper puree, hashed Yukon golds and some Calabrian chilies, and the flavors commingle like old friends. That's also true of the pork chop, with roasted apples and Brussels sprouts.

Duck breast is a thing of beauty, abetted by celery-root puree, garlicky bok choy, black garlic and sauce bigarade (sour orange), and I have an abiding love for her venison loin, served with diced rutabaga, gin-soaked currants and bacon; dishes like these make the approach of winter bearable. (Indeed, I first had Baker's venison dish on a particularly miserable and snowy January night, and it lifted my spirits considerably.)

Pastry chef Julia Fitting produces some beautiful and whimsical desserts. Her espresso-gelato truffle is the size of a grenade and, with its chocolate-crunch exterior and pistachio sauce, almost as dangerous. She does a fine carrot cake, and her chocolate bar — a slab of ganache-enrobed flourless cake bordered by crunchy chocolate feuilletine (crumbs from a thin crispy crepe) — belongs on a magazine cover.

It wouldn't be an Alpana Singh restaurant without a superb wine list, and the choices can be daunting. When in doubt, head sommelier Kelly Peterson Bates, a friendly and skilled communicator, is the person whose advice you'll want to seek.

It's worth noting that the Boarding House encompasses four environments. There's a private-party second floor, as well as a downstairs wine cellar used for special events. The main dining room is on the third floor, where some 4,000 wine bottles hang from the ceiling, and at street level is the bar, a no-reservations room with a snack-centric menu (though it includes several dishes from the main menu) and a happy-hour deal (half-priced wines by the glass, $10 pizza, 4:30-6:30 p.m., Monday-Friday) that has the early birds flocking in.

Seven Lions

At the late, lamented Blue 13 (boy, I liked that place), Chris Curren cooked with bold creativity, a style he balanced with a farm-to-table ethos when he went over to Homestead on the Roof. Curren's doing a different sort of balancing act at 8-month-old Seven Lions, appealing to the casual, one-dish-and-gone crowd while staying relevant to more committed diners.

That's the beauty and curse of Seven Lions' location, on a tourist-choked stretch of Michigan Avenue across from the Art Institute of Chicago. With the foot traffic, the post-museum crowd, and pre- and post-performance patrons (Symphony Center is a block away, the Auditorium Theatre three blocks), that's a lot of potential kiesters for Seven Lions' 300-odd seats.

And so Seven Lions — the name a sly reference to Singh, a Sanskrit word for lion — abounds with familiar, unchallenging ingredients — salmon and whitefish for the seafood choices, pastas with mushrooms or alla Bolognese, chicken and pork chop and steak, oh my. In the early months, the menu included a couple of massive, pricey steaks and a whole roasted chicken, all sized for two diners, but that experiment was retired.

"We just thought we could do better dishes, so we didn't need to keep those around," Curren says. "My (cooking) philosophy hasn't changed; take good ingredients, don't screw them up, and create well-thought-out, very flavorful things. We try to be approachable and still be as creative as possible."

It seems to be working; I wouldn't have guessed that the best-selling starter would be the baguette slices topped with melted burrata and fried Brussels-sprout leaves, but it is. Piled high with charred radicchio, pine nuts and basil and drizzled with honey-lemon dressing and apple saba, the baguette pieces are difficult to eat with dignity, but they taste great.

People also gravitate to the scallop ceviche, which contains enough fresno chili to discourage the spice-averse, but the moderate heat doesn't disguise any of the other flavors, including the texturally perfect scallop slices.

But there's also room for a duck bratwurst, a house-made duck sausage served on a toasted split-top roll (the kind used for lobster rolls) under a blanket of relish, peppers and onions and Bertman Ball Park mustard. (If you're from Cleveland, as Curren is, no explanation of Bertman is needed; for the rest, it's a really good brown mustard and a sports-stadium staple).

Among entrees, the whitefish sounds like a yawner, but abetted by ricotta gnocchi, roasted acorn squash and sage cream sauce, it's a keeper. The chicken, a breast combined with a roulade of forcemeat-filled dark meat, gets a Sriracha-butter glaze that adds no discernible heat but brightens everything on the plate.

The dining room itself is dark and inviting, an industrial space softened by dark-toned wood and leather-wrapped booths. A brightly lit bar in back offers comfortable seating and, yes, TV screens. If part of your potential cliente includes sports lovers, the game must be on.